


Hurry Up (And Wait)

by monstermasks



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Amaya is a God, Claudia My Strange Child, Conversations, Fluff and Humor, I love all of them, I love him, Janai Is Shook, Mid-Season, Multi, Precious Baby Gren, Soren Needs a Hug (The Dragon Prince), italics abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24550855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermasks/pseuds/monstermasks
Summary: Some very important (or just amusing) mid-season conversations to get us through to Season 4.Set after the battle, with a war waiting on the horizon.
Relationships: Amaya/Janai (The Dragon Prince), Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Corvus/Soren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 96





	1. Making Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Amaya is a queen among every single person ever.
> 
> Janai agrees.

The defences had been checked (twice), the wounded were being seen to, the dragons were behaving themselves, the prisoners had been processed and fed, what else? Maybe she could-

A hand on Janai’s wrist interrupted her thought process. She turned to see Amaya, former foe and current… something, smiling winningly at her.

Janai had actually met Amaya before, so she was immediately suspicious.

“You can’t have my sword.” She said. Amaya’s eyebrows flew up, and she signed something that likely amounted to ‘what?’. “Well, I don’t know, you clearly want something.”

Amaya sighed at her dramatically and used the hand on Janai’s wrist to tug her over to where Gren and a few soldiers were standing. Gren grinned to see Amaya (Janai wasn’t miffed about that. She _wasn’t._ Gren was obviously an enormous puppy in human form, Amaya clearly didn’t care for him that way at all. _She wasn’t miffed_ ) and dropped his eyes to Amaya’s flashing hands.

“'You need to stop being such a worrywart and relax. Overworked soldiers are worse than useless and you know it.'” Gren translated. “'Take five minutes for your shoulders to relearn what life without armour is like and follow me. And yes, if you really must, you can keep the sword, you big baby.' Um, her words not mine, you do not strike me as particularly... uh... babby-ish.”

“How kind of you to notice,” Janai murmured drily to him, hiding a smile. The General tugged on Janai’s wrist again, impatient.

“Alright, alright, fine _,_ you harridan. We’ll go _rest_ and _recuperate_ like we’re men or something.” She ignored the affronted noise Gren made, carefully laid out her armour, and followed Amaya out of the Keep.

A few minutes later, out in the open air on top of the mountain, Janai could admit that she might have needed this. Not to Amaya, obviously, but to herself. Up here, miles and miles away from the battlefield, she felt her shoulders loosen.

Amaya tugged her over and they sat on a bench together. She tipped her face up to the sun and Janai found herself caught all over again by the still beauty of her. The hidden strength behind such kind eyes.

Amaya opened those eyes now, caught her staring and smiled smugly. She signed something with a flourish.

“You know, I don’t need to know your language to know when you’re making fun of me.” Janai chuckled. Amaya stuck her tongue out, went to sign something else… and then slowly lowered her hands. Janai sighed. “I know, I’m sorry, I _am_ trying to learn it, between moments, but you might have noticed there hasn’t been a tremendous amount of free time recently. Your alarmingly cheerful second-in-command did teach me this though- “

Concentrating, Janai slowly signed out ‘Hello, my name is’ but then her fingers stuttered to a halt.

“Damnit,” she muttered. “He _did_ show me. How did it go, ‘J’ was- “

Amaya reached out, her calluses rasping against Janai’s, and gently shaped her hands into the correct positions. ‘J’, ‘A’, ‘N’, ‘A’, and finally ‘I’.

“Oh,” Janai said quietly. “Yes, that was it. Um. Show me again?”

They sat together like that, hand in hand, for a sunlit hour of stolen silence, conversing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I can't lie to you. I wrote this, thinking it would be it would just be soft fluff, but I am now embarrassingly fixated on this style of meet-cute. 
> 
> Someone find Amaya, I need to be lovingly taught sign language.


	2. Group Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little scene that I would love to see. Set immediately post-battle.

“There are probably people looking for me,” Ezran sighed. “Wanting me to go... I don't know... do kingly things.”

“Not yet.” Callum muttered into his turbulent mop of hair.

“We should probably go check the defences, make sure we’re properly shielded,” Rayla said slowly, clearly unenthused at the prospect.

“Not yet.” Callum repeated, nudging her into a position a little more securely under his chin.

Zym grumbled at him from where he was curled up against Callum's chest, sharp talons hooked into his shirt.

“Not yet. Although I guess I could probably put the wings away- “

“Not yet!” Chorused Ezran and Rayla together, and huddled impossibly closer.

“Ok, ok,” Callum laughed. His wings (still out, still awesome) were wrapped around his two favourite people in the world, holding them tight in a very feathery embrace. He couldn’t keep them safe with him forever (not that Rayla necessarily needed people to keep her safe), but for just a minute he had them all close, encased in a weave of protective feathers. “Just a few minutes more.”


	3. Glass Half Shattered into a Million Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gren, that beautiful soul of light and laughter, attempts a conversation with a brooding Runaan.  
> It is not very effective.

Gren popped his head around the passageway and sighed in exasperation. Runaan, newly free and doing absolutely nothing to celebrate it, was brooding on the edges of the battlefield. Again.

Something had to be done about this.

“Hey neighbour, I see you got out of the coin.” Gren said by way of greeting.

“It seems the magic broke with Viren’s fall,” Runaan replied. He did not sound overly thrilled about this. “It seems that I was still too late to be of any use, however.”

“No matter,” Gren said cheerfully. “We were victorious in the end, the dragon prince is back where he belongs and you’re no longer embossing a shiny bit of metal! All’s well that ends well, I say.”

“I suppose. Still, if I could have saved even one of the fallen- “ And that was about all Gren could handle of that kind of nonsense.

“You know, Runaan,” Gren interrupted what he was sure would have been a very poetic bit of survivor’s guilt. “We humans actually have an expression about glasses and their relative fullness, that I think you might learn something from. See, I’m a glass half-full of delicious, bubbly champagne kind of guy, and you’re- “

“What glass?” Runaan demanded, scanning the field with an eagle-eyed intensity. “Is there a glass somewhere? I can’t see it among the scattered remnants of our lost brethren.”

“… rather proving my point.”

“What?”

“Never mind, buddy, we’ll keep working on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so, so stupid but wow do I hope a version of this happens.


	4. Ordinary Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we can all agree that Soren needs a hug. Corvus might not be quite ready to give him that, but he can offer up some only slightly awkward conversation in a pinch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even sure I belong on this ship (we haven't seen enough of Corvus to really nail him down as a character) but Soren and Corvus being Regular Dudes together with a healthy dash of UST is my jam. So.

Soren, as a rule, had never been one for over-thinking things. Or thinking at all, if he was being perfectly honest. Over-thinking was best left to those with experience in it, the real professionals in the group, as every time he takes a punt at it things tend to explode. Soren is especially not one for over-thinking right now, because the last time he really put thought into something he abandoned his crazy-pants family on Bad Decisions Hill, and eventually wound up supporting a war effort that would leave his favourite person in the entire world MIA and his… and _Viren_ presumed dead.

He’d do it again, obviously. It was the right thing to do, and Soren is trying to make a habit of those, but… But he doesn’t know if it was the right thing to do when he drove a sword through his fath- through _Viren’s_ chest. Or what he thought was Viren's chest, anyway. Or whether it was the right thing to do when he left and didn’t try harder to take his baby sister (who is the _best person,_ really, she’s just having a rough patch) with him.

Oh, look at that, he’s thinking again.

“Also, rambling. Out loud. To a bar counter.” Said a voice over his shoulder, and Soren peeled himself off the counter enough to turn and see-

“Chain dude! Tracker McTrackerson of the clanky metal links! What’s happening, man?”

“It’s _Corvus,_ and believe it or not, there are people mildly concerned about your mental health.”

“Ohhhh, you _tracked_ me. With your ninja tracking powers and whatnot. Anywho, everything’s fiiiinnnee. Mental health concerns require thinking, and I’m done with that.”

“… Really.”

“Definitely.” Soren nodded decisively. “The battle’s over, victory for us, excellent work everyone, good job. Now we take five, have a drink or thirteen, and _not think_ until… Until whatever is going to happen tomorrow.”

“Seems healthy,” Hot Chain Man, ahem, Corvus, muttered drily. He let out a long breath, the kind Soren was used to being released around him, (it usually meant something along the lines of ‘Lord give me strength’ or ‘Sweetie, no’ depending on who was doing the sighing) and settled down at the bar beside Soren.

Corvus probably doesn’t have trouble with thinking, thought Soren sulkily. Or babbling. Look! He’s just sitting there, in perfectly attractive silent stoicism, just like when-

“Oh hey! I totally captured and imprisoned you.” Soren exclaimed. “Did I- No, no, I don’t think I did apologise for that. Sorry for capturing you and, uh, tying you up and, um, stuff.”

Corvus shrugged, unconcerned. “You were doing your job. Besides, not too long before that, I was doing _my_ job, which was trying my damndest to kill Rayla." He shrugged again. "Things change.”

“Eh, you couldn’t have killed her anyway,” Soren mumbled, who considered this a moot point. “She’s sneaky.”

“I almost did.” Corvus sniffed, obviously offended.

“Mmhmm, Mmhmm, was she asleep at the time?”

“What, no-“

“Drunk? Ill to the point of collapse? Already partially trapped by a convenient rockslide?”

“She did appear to be having some trouble with her arm,” Corvus muttered sullenly.

“Yup, that’s what I thought. She’s too good, one-on-one. Melee fight? Sure. At distance? Difficult but doable. But one-on-one? Psshhh, no way. One-on-one she’s _amazing.”_ Soren sighed dreamily, thinking about getting some awesome Moonshadow twin blades for himself.

“Oh,” Corvus sounded like he had just stepped in something icky. “I didn’t realise you, um, felt like that. About her. Rayla.” Soren flicked a confused glance at his red, uncomfortable face and immediately flailed his hands energetically about in the heartiest negative he could manage on such short notice.

“No, no, nope, eww, what? She’s like _twelve_ , and her and Callum are definitely some super-adorable thing, who’d want to mess with that, they’re practically healing the elf-human divide with the power of puppy love, plus she’s not my type _at all-_ “

“Because she’s an elf?” Corvus asked curiously, looking much more comfortable now that Soren had equalised the conversational playing field by reducing himself to a steaming pile of audible panic.

“No, no, I meant because she’s a- oh my god, maybe? Hang on, shush.” Soren shoved his hand against Corvus’ mouth and, despite his ‘no thinking’ rule, had a think. _Was_ it a bit because of the elf thing? There was everything else, obviously, but was part of it because he was still being ignorant and racist and _doing the wrong thing?_

His mind suddenly conjured an image of Runaan, who had arrived weary and mildly traumatised from a stint in a coin, only yesterday. He’d strode into the dragon keep, just as the sun was setting, outlining him in the fading light, his figure rugged and strong, with muscles bulging around that weird silver band on his arm, quicksilver eyes flashing-

“Nope, all good on the elf front.” Soren said firmly, relieved, and removed his hand from Coruv's unimpressed face. “No problems there _at all_ , wow. Besides, General Amaya definitely found herself an elf bae and I’m pretty well convinced the key to a successful and badass existence is just to do whatever she does.”

Corvus reeled back in shock. “Wait, the _General?_ ”

“Oh definitely. She and that deadly looking sun knight lady have some kind of ‘warriors of honour’ pact-“

“Yes, but-“

“-and the UST is just out of this world. Like, I break out into a sweat every time they enter a room, the temperature literally goes up a couple of degrees-“

“Oh God, please stop talking, it’s _General Amaya,_ it’s like talking about the sexual habits of God.” Corvus moaned into his hands, but he was starting to laugh too. Soren grinned at him, unrepentant.

“Well, amongst all these warrior Gods and dragons and impossible mage-children, what is an ordinary man to do but gossip about his betters?” Soren said, aiming for a light tone and hitting somewhere closer to ‘uncomfortably accurate’. Corvus sat back on his barstool, pensive again.

“You might be ordinary,” he replied finally. “But that doesn’t make your actions any less impressive or heroic - makes them more so, actually – and it certainly doesn’t make them your betters. Besides, I didn't see any other golden knights arriving just in the nick of time to warn everyone about the army and set up the keep's defences. So, you know, good job (or whatever).”

“Oh, um, thanks?” Soren said, embarrassed. “Wow, that’s maybe the most words I’ve ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, well, ordinary men like us need to talk, sometimes, about all these extraordinary things.” He shrugged.

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” Soren muttered.

“So, if you ever want to talk…“ Corvus ground out, sounding about as uncomfortable as Soren felt, which was nice. Solidarity in the face of crushing emotional turmoil, and all. Soren decided to put him out of his misery.

“Oh, I _always_ want to talk. Have you met me? I am the guy with all. Of. The. Words. Sure you want to listen to this babble?” He laughed.

“I can’t be worse at it than a bar counter.” Corvus smiled.

“You might say that’s a _pretty low bar_ ,” Soren chortled (and wished, for a bright, painful moment that Claudia had been here to hear that one). Corvus groaned, but he was smiling again, so that was alright. Soren was starting to suspect that a slight lip upturn from him was the equivalent of a full Claudia style giggle-snort.

“Speaking of talking, Corvus,” Soren continued. “I have questions. Metal, clankety-clank questions.”

Corvus groaned again. “Why is everyone so hyped up about the chain thing? It’s not _that_ weird.”

“It definitely, absolutely is. Go on, tell me all about your tragic, chain-related, origin story.”

“I don’t- Ok, look, when I was a kid, there was an old blacksmith who worked on the corner-“

“Ah yes, the wise mentor.”

“Shut. Up. Anyway- “

Eventually, Corvus and Soren would find their way back to the keep and back to the war waiting for them just around the corner. They would go and stand side by side with Gods and old enemies and impossible mage-children (and General Amaya, who was scarier than all of them combined), and they’ll do it because it’s their job, and because it’s the right thing to do.

But, for just a few moments more-

“- and when he gave me my first chain he said we’d always be linked,” Corvus admitted with great chagrin while Soren roared with laughter beside him.

\- they could be ordinary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Corvus has a chain-related origin story. Change my mind.
> 
> Anyway, there's definitely at least one more of these coming up (Claudia, my beautiful confused weirdo, is currently hanging out in a cave with her crazy dad and a Cocoon of Nightmares, and I think she needs to say some Claudia style nonsense about this) so stay tuned!


	5. Who's That Tap Tapping At My Chamber Door?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claudia is pretty ready to exit the Cave of Weirdness, but her Dad seems to be waiting for someone.

Claudia was used to having a comfortable handle on things. This had less to do with being the smartest person in the room (although she frequently was) and more to do with having an arrow-proof sense of humour. The Claudia of a week ago had been solidly, absolutely certain that there wasn’t much the world could throw at her that couldn't be, first, laughed at, and second, dealt a magic slap-bang-BOOM of utter destruction. The latter still held true, but the former…

It was quickly becoming apparent that while there _might_ be a joke hiding under one of these rocks, all Claudia could seem to find were squishy things and brand new shades of black. The irregular tapping noises seeping from the back of the cave (oddly high-pitched, like a fingernail striking a mirror) weren’t really helping, but Claudia avoided thinking about those when she could.

Claudia blew out her breath in a huff and shoved a lock of newly white hair behind one ear.

“Sooo, Dad,” she idly picked at a bit of cave wall. “Any plans to, you know, leave the cave anytime soon?”

“No.” Viren said shortly. He continued to gaze deeper into its recesses, intently watching the source of the tapping.

“Mmhmm, Mmhmm. Gotta wait, huh? Got plots a-plotting? Schemes a-brewing?”

“No.” _Tap-tap-tap_ went the thing on the wall.

Claudia forged onwards. “So, we’re just going to wait for your Nightmare-Butterfly to emerge, is that right?”

“Yes. When He arrives He will tell us what to do.”

Claudia heard the capitalisation and eyed the shifting mass with a trepidation that had only grown more pronounced as the hours dragged on and the tapping got more insistent.

_Tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap tap tap._

Claudia had made the right decision. She _had._

“Not long now,” Viren muttered.

_Tap-tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if I'll keep adding to this story, but keep an eye out! You never know when I might suddenly decide that Nyx should give a very inaccurate account of how she totally saved the Dragon Prince.


End file.
